Trust
by TeganR
Summary: Trust - the firm belief in the reliability, truth, or ability of someone. Brianna Straits thought she could trust the people closest to her, but like anyone in Beacon Hills, there is always more than what meets the eye. Full summary inside. Set after season 4. ABANDONED
1. Chapter 1

Full Summary:

Brianna Straits had always led a normal life. She attended Devenford Prep, was best friends with Liam Dunbar and did all the things you could expect an average 15 year-old to do. It wasn't until the night she witnessed murders at the hands of the supernatural her life went downhill. She found that everyone around her was hiding something, even those as close as her family. Can she ever trust them, or will the things she finds out lead to one big mistake?

* * *

I carried the last of my luggage from my room down to the car. As I tried to fit it into the trunk, my finger got wedged between it and another bag. Pulling my arm back, I gave my hand a slight shake to alleviate the pain I was feeling.

A hand reached out to my shoulder from behind, causing me to jump slightly. I turned around to see a woman with soft wrinkles outlining her eyes smile warmly towards me. "You know, your Gran is going to be so glad to see you." She pulled her hand away and pushed away the strands of dark brown hair resting on my face.

"Mom, you know you've said that twice in the past five minutes?" I asked with a smirk on my face. I knew she was sad that I would be leaving her for a few weeks, but she knew that I was departing for a good cause.

My brother exited the house with keys swinging around his finger and gave me a small smile. "Okay, you ready to go, Brianna?"

I looked back to my mom and drew her into a tight hug. I gave her a quick peck on the cheek then pulled away and gave the boy a nod. "Yeah, I'm ready."

My mother pulled him into a hug and rested her head on his shoulder. "Now, you better look after your little sister and your Gran, otherwise I'm gonna have to kick your ass." She withdrew from the embrace and took a couple of steps back, prompting my brother and me to climb into the car.

As we began to slowly reverse away from the house, I waved to my mom through the open window, as did my brother. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled out, "I love you!"

A smile crept upon my face as I yelled back to her, "We love you too, Mom."

We drove to the end of the street when I could've sworn I heard a scratching noise come from inside the glove compartment. Curious, I opened it to find it empty. "Brad, did you hear that?"

He turned his head slightly, still trying to focus on road, and gave me a confused look. "Hear what?"

I looked down at my hands and started to pick at the navy blue nail polish on my nails, as I did when I was anxious. After a few seconds of thought, I came to the conclusion that I was just hearing things. "Don't worry, it was nothing."

He sighed and turned the radio on. "At least we're leaving this murder-ridden place that is Beacon Hills. Have you heard of the recent attacks?"

"The ones from a few weeks ago? Yeah there's a rumour going around that Brett Talbot was nearly killed at the scrimmage against Beacon Hills High." Brett and I weren't what you could call close, nearly the opposite in fact. Both Liam and I shared a dislike for the tall, cocky lacrosse player - Liam more so - but I couldn't deny that he looked like he was sent from the heavens.

"Wow, well that makes me almost glad that we'll be safe for a month." We slipped into an uncomfortable silence, I didn't feel like talking about death anymore and didn't know what to change the subject to.

* * *

We had been driving for about thirty minutes when Brad started talking to me for the first time since we left Beacon Hills. "So… uh, leaving many friends behind? I know it'll only be for a few weeks, but still…" I never really opened up to my brother often, only when the silence between us became unbearable or my parents forced us into it.

"Yeah, a few," I admitted. "I mean, I'm not Ms. Popular or anything, but Devenford Prep had some pretty good people to offer." Brad nodded his head in understanding, turning the steering wheel a little to overtake someone who was driving far too slow.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He wiggled his eyebrows and made smooching noises at me, as a result making me to lightly hit his arm. "Brianna, I'm trying to drive here," He said jokingly. "If we veer off this road and crash and we survive, I'm gonna tell them that it was your fault we nearly died… unless you actually die because then I would have to tell them it was your fault that _I_ nearly died." He gave a slight chuckle and continued on from his original question. "But back to what I was saying, were you in the dating game?"

Knowing he wouldn't take no as an answer, I considered whether or not to tell him a lie; I could've told him that I just recently broke up with a mind-blowingly hot guy because we didn't want to do the whole temporary long-distance relationship thing, or I could've described to him one of my best friends and hope for the best that he didn't realise. I decided to go with the latter. "Yeah, actually I was on board with it all. He was kinda short, maybe a couple of inches taller than me, had light brown hair, these _amazing_ blue eyes, _really_ good at lacrosse, uh, he had some pretty bad anger issues."

Brad seemed to be thinking about my description of my 'boyfriend'. "Hang on, did you just describe Liam Dunbar?" He looked at me with a puzzled expression. "You know, as in your best friend? Unless it's become more than that in recent times." His lips tugged into a sly smile.

I bit my lip and looked at him. "Yeah, I mean, I am just head over heels for him, I just can never get those stunning blue eyes out of my head," I enthused sarcastically. After seeing the disbelieving look that was plastered on his face, I gave in. "No, Brad, he's not my boyfriend." I laughed as I saw his mouth twist into a smile. "He's always going to be my best friend, okay? Nothing more."

Brad's face turned into a mocking expression of pain. "Oh, not the friend zone. Bri, you're killing the poor kid. The friend zone is probably the worst place you can be."

"What? Liam doesn't like me! I mean sure, he likes me because we're best friends, but he doesn't want to suck my face." I leant forward to turn the radio up, not wanting the conversation to go any further. I sat back in my seat and didn't say a word, thankful that Brad got the hint.

After about an hour of small talk we sat silent for a while longer before the skyline changed to show buildings. Brad sighed deeply and deadpanned, "Welcome to Mallowdeer Village, sis; home of the elderly, home of Gran."

* * *

"Brianna! Brad! Oh, how nice it is to see you both," exclaimed Gran as she opened the front door. She stepped back and invited us inside, to then walk over with open arms and gave each of us a peck on the cheek and a warm hug.

"Gran, it's so good to see you. It's been ages since we last saw each other," I greeted happily, taking in my surroundings as I did so. We were standing in a small apartment with floral wallpaper. A small kitchen, small dining room and an even smaller living room was what occupied the downstairs area.

Gran ushered me and my brother over to the wooden dining table, politely telling us to take a seat. She strode over to the kitchen and poured three glasses of lemonade. She skillfully held all the glasses in her hands as she made her way back.

After placing a glass in front of me and my brother, Gran took a seat and started the conversation. "So, how's school going?" That question is probably on top of my list of 'hated small-talk questions', closely followed by 'what have you been up to' and talking about careers in general. But because she's my Gran, I can't refuse to answer.

"School has… school has been going great. I uh… I'm not failing, which is a good thing I guess," I told her hesitantly. Brad tried to hide his laughter about my response, albeit not very well. As an awkward silence ensued, I excused myself to get my bag from the car.

* * *

I had been at Gran's small home for five days now, regularly reminding myself why I was there. As I laid in the dark on one of the guest bedroom beds, my mother's words kept repeating in my head: _You have to go see your Gran, Brianna, she won't be here next week… what I meant to say is, probably not for too much longer._

I tried to make sense of her original statement, _won't be here next week_ , but dismissed it, thinking that she got her words mixed up. I was staring at the roof when I heard the same scratching noise I had been hearing all week. I shoved the pillow over my ears, hoping the noise would go away, but to no avail.

I decided to walk around to find the source and it gradually grew louder as I headed downstairs to the kitchen. As I turned a corner, the scratching stopped. I looked around for any signs that someone had been here, but it was around 11pm and Gran was probably in bed already and Brad in the other guest room playing video games.

As I headed back to my room I heard a window smash and then an animalistic growl, followed by frantic panting.

I turned around the corner again to see Gran pinned to the kitchen countertop, terror plastered on her face. The man holding her down turned his head slowly towards me, allowing me to see his frightening features; pointed ears, extended sideburns, heightened brow, a large nose and finally, eerily glowing red eyes filled with bloodlust.

I froze as I saw the scene in front of me unfold. The inhuman man raised an arm with claws protruding from his fingertips and rapidly swiped down at Gran's throat, grinning as he watched the life leave her eyes. It was then that I felt something drop inside my stomach. It was as if I was paralysed and couldn't move from shock.

I faintly felt something wrap around my waist from behind, pulling me back to stand behind the wall. I felt my legs collapse beneath me, my brain not able to comprehend anything that was happening. It was silent except for my heavy breathing. Brad, who still had his hands around my waist, stayed surprisingly calm. But then the animal-like man slowly came into view and stood in front of me.

All of a sudden Brad stood and charged at him, armed with daggers that were previously hidden among him. The other man growled and lunged at him, narrowly missing Brad with his claws. Brad swiped at the man, managing to slice his arm, only for it to heal moments later. He attempted this maneuver again, but his opponent blocked it and put Brad into a position with his claws only millimetres away from his throat.

A menacing laugh came from the man, restraining Brad wasn't a problem for him. "Well, I didn't come here planning to kill _two_ people, but sometimes things don't go according to plan," he taunted with a sickening smile. He gradually dug his claws into Brad's throat and dragged them across, making it a slow and painful death. He let Brad drop to the floor once the life was drained from him and began to walk away. He turned back to face me and smiled with a satisfied grin. "Oh, and, say 'hi' to your mother for me," and then he jumped out the window he smashed to get in.

I had to call 911, but I couldn't muster the energy to do so. My Gran's and older brother's lifeless bodies were lying on the floor with blood pooling around them. Then I heard police sirens and yelling from outside. I was confused as to how they got there, but I didn't care. I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness, and finally I let the peace overcome me.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys! This is my first story so if you think my writing isn't that great or something and you think there's something that can be improved on, don't be afraid to tell me :).**

 **Also I'm from Australia, so updating times may be weird for some of you.**

 **~Tegan**


	2. Chapter 2

"Can you describe to me the attacker? Any significant features?" I sat in the back of the ambulance silently, wrapped in blankets and not answering the questions the deputy was asking me. My cheeks were damp and my eyes were red from tears. Everything blurred around me as I recollected the man, the man who had mercilessly killed nearly half of my living relatives within a span of five minutes. "Brianna? It's okay if you don't want to talk, I kind of understand what you're going through."

I hesitated, not so willing to let my feelings pour out to just anyone quite yet. "You - you do?" It was better to have someone that had apparently been through the same thing, rather than someone who pretends to understand your feelings and ends up making themselves look like an idiot. I gave in and was prepared to retell the story out loud, as oppose to the countless times I had done so in my head. "I kinda remember this guy had these… this really w-weird face and-d…" I couldn't continue, my eyes were tearing up again and my voice was getting shaky. The deputy gave me a soft smile and didn't carry on with the questions.

The sheriff walked over to where I sat and gave me a pat on the back. "We've contacted your mother and she should be here within a couple of hours. Until then, you can stay at the station." He gave a smile, not one out of pity, but one that made it seem like he genuinely cared.

"Thank you, Sheriff." I was too emotionally and physically exhausted to say much more, but I'm sure he understood. He led me to his cruiser and opened the passenger door for me. He took the blankets from me - at my appeal - and gave them back to the paramedics. After a brief chat with a few officials, he came back and climbed into the driver's seat.

As we headed for the police station, I began to go over the events in my head for what must of been the hundredth time. However I kept thinking back to what the malformed man said, ' _Say "hi" to your mother for me_ '. How did he know my mother?

We arrived at the station minutes later, but I didn't want to go inside. I've had my fair share of being inside police stations. My father was an alcoholic, was led to depression and eventually became suicidal. Last time I heard, he was admitted to Eichen House. The way my mom talked about my dad, it's like she's given up on him. I hardly knew him sober, I was five when he took up drinking and eight when I last saw him. All I knew was Mom saw him maybe once a year.

Following some consideration, I decided to go inside. The sheriff invited me to use the kitchen - fridge included - but after recent events, I found that I had lost my appetite.

After lounging in a chair for a small while, I heard a familiar voice asking for me. I turned around and walked hurriedly over to Mom. She held out her arms and I let her embrace me, even though it could have been compared to that of a boa constrictor. I breathed in her scent, feeling secure with the smell of her favourite perfume. I felt a tear trickle down my face, my eyes feeling like they had run out of anymore to shed.

Mom led me to the car, the black SUV barely visible against the early morning backdrop. As we climbed into our respective seats, I looked over to her, expecting to see a saddened expression, but however I was met with one that was stoic. As we pulled out of the car park, my mom was first to break the building tension. "Do you wanna tell me what happened?" It wasn't spoken softly, like you would to a child, but rather like she already knew the answer and she was waiting to see if I was correct.

I stared at the road ahead of me, illuminated by the street lights. I knew I could tell my mother of all people, knew that she would listen and understand no matter what was said. "Well there was this guy, he didn't look too much older than thirty, although that could've been because of his facial hair." I reminded myself of the frightening features that this, _thing_ , possessed. "He had heaps of muscle on his face, it made his nose look massive and his forehead too." I looked to my left to see what kind of reaction my mom had, but all she did was nod. I continued, "He also had weird ears, they were pointed at the tip. And his fingernails..." I began to pick at my nail polish once again, imagining the animal-like claws slash through my grandmother's throat. "His fingernails were l-like claws really. His eyes though, they couldn't have been human. I mean, human eyes don't... _glow_." I started to breathe heavily, worried of what my mom might say.

All she said was, "What colour were his eyes?"

I looked at her sceptically, she shouldn't be so calm about something that makes me sound crazy. "Uh, they were, they were red. Bright red," I confirmed.

"Okay," was the only response I got from her.

We slipped into silence, not necessarily awkward, but not comfortable either. We stayed like that for the whole way home, only speaking to give each other small words of encouragement, such as 'you're strong, you can make it through this,' or to comment on how the other person is holding themself together so well.

Once we finally reached the comfort of our own home, we stood in the living room and held each tight for a few moments, finally pulling away when I yawned. I hadn't realised how exhausted I was. I trodded upstairs to my bedroom, slipped on a black tank top and shorts covered with love hearts. I slid into bed and pulled the covers up to my neck, letting a few tears slide down my cheek before slipping into slumber.

* * *

I didn't wake up until 3pm the next day. I walked downstairs to grab a bite, although I still didn't feel like eating. I looked around the kitchen, it felt empty without my brother to occupy it. He was always in the kitchen, cooking was one of his talents. I took a seat at the breakfast bar, placed my arms on the counter and rested my head, using my arms as cushions. I sat there wondering what I did to deserve such a thing to happen; why someone would break into an elderly person's home to kill two people. Then a thought came to me. Why did Brad have daggers? He died trying to save me, and I couldn't help but think it was partly my fault to begin with. If I had of realised my grandmother was downstairs, I could've protected her.

I sat like that for a little while, until I heard the voice of my mother increasing. I figured she was down the hall on the phone to someone, and since the house was dead silent, I couldn't help but overhear. "I don't know, Mark, I just don't think she deserves this... Yes, I remember... Okay, well I would still be careful, Beacon Hills is full of surprises... Okay, bye." She hung up the phone, which had me wondering to myself if 'Mark' was my dad, or if it was just a coincidence. She worked at a clothes shop, so it was possible that he was just a co-worker.

I sat up from my position in the kitchen and walked over to the living room, where my mom was now residing. "Hey, Mom. How are you holding up?" She gave a small jump at the sound of my voice, obviously she hadn't realised I had entered the room. I sat down on the sofa opposite her, careful to avoid sitting on the left side as that was Brad's favourite seat.

She slowly nodded her head, she looked slightly grief-stricken but not so much that it was obvious. "I'm fine, I suppose. Still shaken that my son is... gone. But I should be asking you that question, after all, you were there." I was slightly puzzled that she didn't really display much emotion. When someone's son dies the previous night, you would expect them to be a crying mess. But not this mother.

"Well I think I'm dehydrated from crying, but other than that I feel... hollow. Last night - or this morning, seeing as I didn't wake up until three o'clock - I kept seeing the guy who k-k-killed Brad and Gran." Despite the lack of tears I had to release, a single one still managed to crawl down my cheek. "His eyes, they kept appearing. They engulfed me, like the only thing I could see was red."

My mother nodded again, looking like she was hesitating to say something.

"What's wrong? I mean, I know there's the obvious but you look like you want to say something." I leaned over to rub her knee caringly, but she moved her leg back and looked me straight in the eyes. Hurt flashed across my face, but that was quickly replaced with her next statement.

"I'm admitting you to Eichen House." She said it straight-faced, giving no explanation as to why.

"What?! Eichen House? That place is a death trap! Do you know what they call it? Why they call it that? Echo House, Mom! The echoes, they - they drive people to insanity!" I was taking panicked breaths, not believing what my mom was actually saying. "Why would you send me there? It's not like I'm psychotic or delusional!"

Finally the hard expression on her face changed to one of guilt. "I-I'm sorry, dear. It's not my decision." She reached out her hand, hoping I would understand, but I swatted it away, the hurt evident on her face. She continued, "I'm admitting you for seven days, for severe PTSD."

"Severe post traum- and what if I don't want to go?" I was seriously wondering what kind of sick joke this was, but seeing as Mom wasn't backing down, I had no choice but to believe her.

"You don't have to worry about that, I have ways to persuade you." Was this woman in front of me the same woman I've always loved? The same woman who promised to always protect me? What kind of a mother would send her daughter to a mental health institution and lie about her being sick?

"I'll get evaluated. They'll realise the only thing wrong is that I'm mourning over my family members." I had to get out of the room, it was suffocating having to sit there and listen to my mother.

"I have that taken care of." I sat up from my seat on the sofa and began to walk away. "I'm taking you in Friday," was the last thing mentioned before I had completely left the room.

I walked out of the front door and down the stairs, looking back to see if Mom had followed me. I glanced over the two-story house quickly with a glint of hope, just to see if I had imagined the past two days in my head and Brad was actually in his bedroom playing video games. But his curtains were drawn and reality hit me again; he was gone.

I walked down the street until it came to an end. A dirt pathway led off to my left, pathing the way into the preserve. I followed it, as I had done many times before. I checked the back pocket of my jeans for my phone, silently cursing myself for leaving it in my room. Figuring I needed to blow off some steam, I walked through the trees until I reached a small clearing. I walked up to a small tree and untied a rope from a branch that had my lacrosse stick attached to it. Fixed to the trunk of the tree was a small bag filled with lacrosse balls.

So, as you may or may not have guessed, lacrosse is my favourite sport. It started when I first met Liam two years ago. He loved lacrosse while I mildly enjoyed it. He showed me how to play and a showed me a few tricks along the way too. At Devenford Prep I was on the girls lacrosse team. Sure, I could've been on the main team with the guys but that wasn't really to my liking. Besides, Mom didn't want me getting hurt too bad.

And that brought me back to the reason I was out here in the first place. I scooped up a rubber ball and aimed it to land inside an oil tin tied to the tree. As I transferred the power to the ball, I was thinking about what my mom said again. As if anger was the key, the ball went straight into the tin, then again, and again. After about an hour of constantly shooting, my arms were aching and the sky was getting dark. I decided to head back home, first putting the lacrosse gear away. I walked at a slow pace, not rushing to be with the woman willing to send me off.

I slipped inside the door, careful to not make a sound, and spent the rest of the evening in my room.

* * *

 **A/N: Woo! Chapter two! So not much Liam in this chapter again, in fact hardly any. But next chapter if I plan it right, he should make an appearance.  
Read and review, it makes my day and encourages me to write faster :)**

 **~Tegan**


	3. Chapter 3

I spent all of Thursday in my room, only leaving to go to the bathroom or the kitchen for food. I tried my best to avoid my mom, when she knocked on my door at some point I told her to go away and locked the door. She didn't put up much of a fight though, she would just walk away without saying anything more. The news from the previous day had me in a constant bad mood, so much so that I nearly threw something at my wall intending to put a hole in it. I didn't want to talk to anybody, not even Liam, even though I thought he should know of my sentence to Eichen House.

That is until Friday, when Mom barged into my room without knocking and demanded I get into the car. I put up a fight, obviously, but after she threatened me with chloroform, I went along with it.

We got into the car, and immediately I asked, "Do you really have chloroform?" I doubted it, but with my mother's recent actions it was starting to become more likely.

Mom looked like she was considering to tell me the answer, but then it looked like she had come to a verdict. "I do. It's in the trunk if you're really interested."

I looked down at my hands, picking at the last few specs of the navy blue polish off my fingernails. I was seriously considering the possibility that loving me was just an act. It didn't take long to get to Eichen House, but the tension in the car was thickening the longer we were in there. We pulled up near the gate, having only a few yards to walk to reach the speaker. We stood there for a few moments, confused as to how we contact them. Our thoughts were broken when a voice came through the speaker. "Mrs and Ms Straits?" We both nodded, not fully sure if they could see us. "Come through if you will."

We did as told, we walked through the large cast iron gates that opened themselves. As we reached the steps leading to the entrance, the gate slammed behind us, making us both jump. We walked inside to reception to see a man there, maybe in his thirties. Mom was first to speak up.

"I'm here to admit Brianna Straits." She didn't look at me, not even to give me a sign that it'll be okay.

The receptionist seemed to recognise the name. "Ms Straits. There will someone to tend to you shortly." He motioned his hand to a few seats pushed against the wall, "You're welcome to take a seat until the attendant gets here." Not even a minute later a short nurse with a dark skin tone walked into the lobby.

"Ms Straits? This way please." My mother and I followed the woman to a separate room, only stopping when she turned around. "Now, there are no phone calls, emails or visitors for the first seventy-two hours. You will be taken for a brief physical soon and in the morning you will be assessed by a staff psychologist, speak to a social worker and attend group therapy." It sounded like she was reciting from a textbook, she had no sign of sympathy or emotion in her voice. I was handed a pair of brown slippers. "You will be wearing these, no laces allowed. Please empty your pockets onto this tray," she produced an empty tray from behind her, "and if you are wearing a belt, please take it off." I told her I had nothing in my pockets, pulling out the insides to further my point. I showed her the top of my jeans, proving that I didn't have a belt on my body. I pulled my black Vans off my feet, replacing them with the safe brown slippers. "Okay, follow me please." We followed the nurse through a hallway to a spiral staircase. I looked up the centre of it, noticing some patients leaning over the banister, peering down at the ground below. I looked up at the roof, catching sight of a noose made from bed sheets. If I wasn't already uncomfortable with being here, this made sure of it. The nurse started to ascend the staircase, not pausing to let us catch up.

"What are the suicide rates here?" I questioned hesitantly after reaching her, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Well the one you see above you happened only a couple of hours ago. We tend to have a few a week, there seem to more on Mondays than any other day." She said it so casually, like she's asked it all the time. It sent chills up my spine. We were a few flights up, but thankfully not too close to the makeshift noose. "This will be your room for the next seven days. Someone will be here within the next hour to give you a physical. If you need any assistance, feel free to ask staff members." I nodded, staring at the dark room. It had two beds, indicating I had a roommate.

The nurse turned and walked away, leaving just me and Mom. She turned to me, holding out her arms for a hug, but I refused. "How can you expect any kind of compassion from me after you've sent me to a psycho place without reason? You _threatened_ me. I don't think that'll be winning you the _Mom of the Year Award_ anytime soon. She opened her mouth to respond, but I cut off before she could say anything. "Just... just leave. Go. I'll see you in seven days." She nodded her head, turning slowly to walk down the flights of stairs even slower. Feeling no remorse for sending my mom off like that, I walked into the room and sat down on the bed.

I sat like that for a while, just swimming in my thoughts. I even shed a few tears, scared of what could happen to me, a fifteen year old girl, in a place like this. After what could've been three hours for all I knew, a nurse came to my room, confirmed I was Brianna Straits and led me to an examination room on the ground floor.

"Alright, Brianna, I'm going to check your heart rate now, okay?" I nodded my head. The nurse's voice was kind and soft, making her sound like she genuinely cared. She produced a stethoscope and held it over my heart, standing there patiently until she was satisfied. "Your heart rate seems normal. Now I'm going to check your blood pressure, okay Brianna?" After placing the stethoscope around her neck, she picked up a cuff from one of the tables and strapped it around my upper arm. The nurse inflated the cuff, then let it deflate, holding the stethoscope over my heart again as she did so. She observed the gauge attached to the cuff, carefully monitoring it and my heart rate to make sure my blood pressure was in check.

"Can I ask you a question?" The nurse looked at me with a benevolent smile, nodding as a signal for me to continue. "Do you know my dad, uh, Mark Straits?" The question just popped in my head, I didn't really think about it.

The nurse appeared to think about it for a few moments, "The name does ring a bell. I might have tended to him a few times. Does he have dark hair?" I nodded. " A little taller than me?" The woman was fairly tall, roughly six feet.

"I can't remember, I haven't seen him in years," I dismissed. If he was that tall, I definitely didn't inherit that trait. I stood at five foot three, only slightly shorter than my mother.

"That's fair, but you never know, you might see him around." She gave me a soft smile, like my mom use to give me. She walked back a few steps and placed the blood pressure cuff on a nearby table. "Okay, so now I need to calculate your Body Mass Index. Can you please come over here and stand on the scales?" I did as the nurse said, I walked to the other side of the room and stood on a small square platform. "Very good, a healthy 120 pounds," she said once the numbers on the small screen appeared. I stepped off the scales and watched as the nurse gestured to something that looked a little like a pole that was attached to the wall. "I'm going to use this stadiometer to measure your height, okay Brianna?" I nodded and walked a few steps to reach the measuring device. I placed my back against the wall and observed as the nurse moved the sliding piece to rest on my head. She hummed a "mhm" as she noted the numbers. "Five foot three. good news, Brianna, you fall within a healthy percentile." I moved away from the wall and looked at the blonde nurse. "Do you play any sports?"

"I, uh, I play lacrosse," I told her, slightly taken aback by her question.

"Hm, lacrosse. I never really got into it, personally I find it confusing. Do you go to Beacon Hills High?"

"No, Devenford Prep. My mom knew the principal so that's where she put me." I wasn't sure why I was telling her this, really she was just a part of my misery regarding being in this building.

"That's the school right on the edge of Beacon Hills, right?" she inquired as she turned around and pulled an electric thermometer from a draw.

"Yeah, that's the one." I noticed the device she was holding and watched as she quickly cleaned it in a sink. I changed the subject, not wanting to give away anymore information, no matter how nice she appears to be. "Do you want me to put the thermometer in my mouth?"

She looked over to me and held out the plastic measuring device. "Please, if you don't mind too much. Do you know the correct place to put it?" I accepted it while nodding and put it in my mouth, under my tongue. It took a little while, but finally the thermometer beeped. I took it from my mouth and handed it to her. She nodded her head in thanks and read the number aloud. "Ninety-seven point nine. Seems pretty normal to me." She flashed me a smile and looked down at the watch on her wrist. "I need to measure your respiratory rate. That one's easy. I just need you to breathe normally for sixty seconds while I count how many breaths you take by observing your chest rising." I agreed, this would be the most simple by far. "Okay, start in three, two, one..." She carefully watched my chest, mentally counting how many breaths I took. I found that I was doing it too, the number rising in my head every time my chest rose. Twelve... Thirteen... Fourteen... "Time! Okay, so in sixty seconds I counted fourteen breaths, which is good." She observed my face, carefully looking all over for a reason I didn't know. She took my hands, turning them over and finally letting go. "No signs of paleness and I can't see any signs of nutrient deficiencies." She lifted my arm and felt around my armpit, "Lymph nodes seem in check, sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable." She carried on with feeling around my stomach, searching around what I assumed were my organs. "No organ enlargement, which is a good sign." The nurse then proceeded to lift her arms to shoulder-level, bent at the elbow, as if ready to play a clapping game like you would in elementary school. "Push me." And so I did. I was expecting the nurse to fall straight away, what with her body rigid like it was, so I only pushed her lightly. However she didn't budge. I pushed a little harder, she gave a little, but not to the extent that she lost balance. "Harder." I pushed harder, and finally she was satisfied. She didn't move from her position however. "Now, take hold of my hands and pull me." I did as I was told, I pulled her towards me with surprising ease. It wasn't like the last time where the nurse put up some resistance. "Lovely. Now I-

"How much longer will this take?" The nurse looked taken aback. I didn't mean for it to sound rude or anything, it was just that my irritable mood hadn't quite lifted from when I got there. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

"That's quite alright. To answer your question, I just need to finish up this routine neurological exam and run a blood test, so altogether maybe half an hour." I nodded in response, not really sure what answer I was expecting anyway.

"Thanks. So the blood test, does that involve needles?" I cringed at the thought, not at all liking the prospect of having one inside of me.

"Yes, I'll be drawing blood from your inner arm, just below your elbow." She seemed to notice my reluctant attitude, because then she added, "Why, not a fan of needles?"

I let out a breath of air, a half-hearted laugh. "You could say that."

"Well, I'll try to be extra careful." I smiled at her, grateful that she didn't push any further. The truth was when I was about four, I watched Brad get his injections and he cried. From then on I hated them, even though it wasn't even me who got them. I wasn't embarrassed about it, but due to his recent... departure, I wanted to avoid the topic of him as much as possible.

"Thanks." I looked around sheepishly, not wanting to ignite further conversation.

"Okay, so if you don't mind, I need you to stand still and close your eyes." I did as I was directed and continued to listen for more instructions. "I'm going to gently push you from side to side, I just need you to stay balanced." The nurse did just that. I swayed, not failing to balance. "Great, you can open your eyes now." The nurse walked to a table, picking up a few objects that I couldn't identify and returning back to me. "Now I'm going to press some objects into your skin. I need you to tell me how they feel; hot, cold, sharp, blunt, etcetera. So you can close your eyes again." I let my eyes flutter close, waiting to feel something on my skin.

There it was. Something cool, like metal touching my arm. "Cold and blunt," I told her. The nurse hummed satisfactorily, pressing another object into my skin. "Um, sharp, it doesn't really have a temperature." Another content hum. After a few more tests, the nurse seemed pleased with my results.

"So far everything seems normal. Can I please get you to sit up on the bench behind you and relax." I sat on the metal bench and relaxed as much as possible. "Good. So now I'm going to test your reflexes. Can you please bring your leg a little closer just so the knee isn't touching the bench?" I slid forward a little, enabling the nurse to do whatever she needed to do. She produced a small hammer and hit my knee with it a few times, causing my leg to jerk up. She then proceeded to take hold of my bicep and tapped a certain spot with it a few times again. Apparently there were more tests in regard to reflexes than I thought, because it took quite a while for the nurse to hammer away at my body in all places. "Everything seems satisfactory. One more test to go." I rolled my eyes, just wanting to get out of there. Apparently the brief physical wasn't as brief as I thought. "Close your eyes again and touch your index finger to your nose." I performed this with ease. Next I was instructed to touch my little finger to the thumb on my other hand. Also easy. "Well that is most of the physical done. Now we're left to the blood test." I shuddered, but knew I had to do it.

"Yeah, sure. When you're ready." I watched as she prepared the needle, attaching a tube to the end of it, presumably to hold my blood.

"Just relax," She said as she walked back to me. I let in a deep breath and held out my arm. I looked away, staring instead at the medical posters on the wall. I was halfway through reading one about the heart when the blonde-haired nurse said, "All done!" I looked down to my arm, not realising she had even penetrated my arm. "See, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be." She winked at me and announced, "Okay, Brianna, you're good to go."

I slid off the bench and walked to the door hurriedly, but turned around when once I had stepped outside. "Shouldn't you have taken this down? I mean written on some paper or something, because I doubt you remember the little things like my height or my breathing rate."

She gave me a sly smile, "You're height, Ms Straits, is five foot three and you have a respiratory rate of fourteen. I have an excellent memory, a photographic one if you must know. I write everything afterwards."

I leant against the door frame, recalling facts from texts I had read. "You know they say that photographic memory is just a myth, it hasn't actually been scientifically proven."

"Many things haven't been scientifically proven, but that doesn't mean they don't exist." I thought back to last week, the night of the murders, how that man looked like something out of a fantasy novel. How his eyes glowed impossibly red. "That is, if you know what I mean." And with that, I walked away.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so, I'm horrible at planning. This chapter went a little longer than I originally thought, so I'll have to write the rest of her experience in Eichen House next chapter. Which hopefully will include Liam, finally. Also sorry about detailing her physical so much, I kinda researched it and got a bit carried away. And if I made any errors about it, I apologise about that too.**

 **Don't forget to leave a review, I'd like to know what you think about my story.**

 **~Tegan**


	4. Chapter 4

As I walked back to my room, I found the halls had grown quieter than the last time I passed through for the simple reason that it was near empty. I proceeded to climb the stairs, thanking my average level of fitness even though I hadn't played a sport in weeks. I reached my room, walked inside and found someone sitting on my bed. She snapped her head towards me upon my arrival, pressing me to speak.

"Uh, hi. Are you... are you my roommate?" I observed the person that sat before me; a girl in her late teens with shoulder-length blonde hair, ghostly pale skin and dark brown eyes.

She carefully looked me over, her eyes darting around my body that stood in the doorway. "I am. And who are you?"

I was a little taken aback that she was so blunt, but quickly brushed it off as I cleared my throat. "My name's Brianna, I got here a few hours ago." She nodded her head at my introduction but made no move to say anything. "So, uh... What's your name?"

"I'm Leah. I came here about three weeks ago. They said I have some kind of psychiatric syndrome, but they're wrong; it's a real thing and I'm endangering people in here because of it." I just nodded, not really sure how to respond to that. A moment ago I needed to encourage her to even tell me her name, then suddenly she came out about her mental state. "Would you like the grand tour of this place?"

"Yeah sure, if you don't mind." I just stood where I was, waiting for Leah to make a motion to leave. She looked down at the ground, seemingly lost in her thoughts. "Uh... are we going?"

She snapped her head up facing me, her expression making her look like a deer a caught in headlights. She relaxed after a second, "Oh yeah, follow me." She lifted herself from the bed and walked past me and down the stairs. I followed after her, taking some different corners than the last few times I had passed through.

We walked out into a large courtyard. The first thing I saw were pillars evenly spaced out, they circled a small area made up of grass and trees. People milled about idly, some of them seemed to be engaged in a quiet conversation. "Is it always so quiet around here?" I looked around some more, half-expecting someone to be causing a disturbance.

"Most of the time, although you do get those who have random outbursts. Okay, so, see that woman over there?" Leah pointed to a middle-aged woman sitting on a bench; I nodded my head. "That's Cassandra, she's in here for schizophrenia." We walked a little, however slowly. "And see the old guy in front of us? That's Bruce. I think he's here for SAD, it's a seasonal-depression thing," Leah explained. She pointed to a group of people who looked to be in their twenties and thirties. "Over there is Beth, Anthony, Eric, Antonio, Tina and Bonnie; otherwise known as the Jesus Group."

"Let me guess, they believe in God so much that they did something that ended them up in here?" I looked to my left at Leah who just shrugged.

"No, they all believe they're Jesus Christ. Some days they argue about who the real Jesus is, and who the Antichrist is. Others from that group have been put into the closed unit for violent behaviour, it got that bad." We walked over to a bench and sat down while Leah continued to point out people. "Sitting down on the grass is... Okay I forgot his name but he has Ganser syndrome. Something to do with always giving wrong answers and stuff. That guy over there," She raised her hand, pointing to a man in a far corner and squinted her eyes, "see him? That's Mark and he's here for attempted suicides and alcohol abuse. He's a pretty okay guy, but I-

"Wait, did you say Mark?"

"Uh, yeah. I think his last name starts with an 'S'. Stakes? Swades? Uh, maybe Slate?"

"Straits?" If this man was who I thought it was, then I would probably freak out. Not just scream in sheer excitement, but actually punch someone.

"Yeah, that's the one! Wait, how did you know?"

"He's my dad." A short burst of anger swelled inside me. When I said that I would punch someone, I lied. Instead, I stood up and punched the second closest thing to me: a wall. "Ow! Okay, bad idea," I whined as I cradled my throbbing hand to my chest.

"Dude, what the hell?" Leah just stared at me in surprise, not offering any support of any kind.

"Well, it was the wall or you. Personally I don't want to know how you react to being punched in the face." She just shrugged and stared at my hand. "So, uh, you gonna show me around some more? You know, seeing how this is the grand tour and all."

Leah perked up at the reminder. "Oh yeah. So this is the courtyard," she pointed to an area off to her left, "that's where they keep a phone. Okay, tours over."

"That's it? You're not going to show me anything else?" I looked at her incredulously, expecting her to laugh, tell me she's joking and then move on to show me the rest of the facility.

"Nope. Nothing else to show; we're not allowed anywhere apart from here and the rooms we sleep in." She sat down on the bench again and I followed. We sat there silently for a couple of minutes, just watching as everyone minded their own business. "So why are you at Eichen?" She asked, quite bluntly I might add. "Oops, sorry, it's my animal side. Sometimes it just gets the better of me," Leah said with a laugh that wasn't so humorous.

"Yeah, haha," I replied a little warily. "Um, my mom put me in here. I'm not actually sick, I think _she_ might be though actually." I thought back to a few days ago when she announced I was going to the mental institution. How she stated I apparently suffered from severe PTSD. Was I actually mentally ill? Was I just oblivious to the signs that I wasn't coping as well as I

thought about my brother's death?

"You know, that sounds a lot like what someone in denial about their mental health might say." This girl was starting to get on my nerves.

"Yeah, well, I'll have to wait until tomorrow morning when I get checked out by the psychiatrist, I guess." At least I would be able to get a professional's point of view on whether or not I belong here. "You know what? I might go back to the room and stay there for the rest of the day."

"But what about meal times? You're not allowed to skip those." Well that just put a wrench in the works.

"Well, when's lunch?" It couldn't have been that late in the afternoon, after all, I arrived at roughly ten thirty that morning.

"It should be soon, they have it at one o'clock." Changing the topic, Leah shifted in her seat to face me. "Can I tell you a secret?" I nodded, "I'm a werewolf."

"I'm - I'm sorry? A werewolf? Are you sure?" I didn't believe the girl in front of me, not fully anyway. But the sight of the man that night kept nagging me in the back of my head. I considered my options: call her a nutjob, walk away, most likely lose the only friend I've made in this place and ultimately feel regretful; or, play along with her, realise that it's probably a mental condition and not feel like a total bitch. I decided the latter was the better option.

"Yeah, positive. One night I was in the woods and something bit me. It hurt heaps, like, _heaps_ , but I got through it and found out I had these sharp claws along with other things on the next full moon." The way she was talking about her supposed condition, it seemed that there wasn't a doubt in her mind. Which made sense, that's probably why she was at Eichen house in the first place.

Playing along, I decided to ask about her 'werewolf-ness'. "Wow, that's interesting. How many times have you turned into a werewolf?"

Leah looked like she was seriously thinking about it. She counted the fingers on her hand and finally came up with a number. "I was bitten last September on a full moon, so if you don't count that, four."

"Oh yeah, so, I guess you could say you're a pro at it by now?" If I asked as many questions as possible and kept the conversation alive, maybe time would move quickly and lunch would soon be about. As I thought about lunch, my stomach grumbled, a result of not eating breakfast.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I mean the guy who bit me would most likely be better. Or maybe not; after all, it was on a full moon and he could've in fact been out of control."

A thought struck me, something that would make sense if this whole werewolf thing was true. "Hey, wolves hunt and do stuff in groups, right? You know, packs?" I was trying to recall my limited knowledge of wolves, quietly thankful I listened in middle school.

"That sounds about right. Why, what are you getting at?"

"Well, that would mean there are more werewolves in the area; and if you're part of their pack, they might be able to break you out and set you free." I immediately regretted my suggestion, as her face turned to one of anger and rage.

" _Break me out?! "_ Leah screamed, "Have I not made it clear to you why I'm in here in the first place?! I could _kill_ somebody!" I was about to apologise for saying anything, when two male staff members rushed over and seized the girl from behind. "Let go of me!" Leah hissed as she struggled to escape from their hold.

"Leah, not again!" One of the men exclaimed.

The other man, who looked slightly older, remained calm, as if any sign of weakness would set the still grappling girl free.

"No, she doesn't understand!" She let out a scream and violently released herself from one of the men's grasp, turned around and punched him in the face. _Hard_.

"That's it, you're going to the closed unit!" The older man angrily yelled as he held his face where Leah's fist had previously connected. He swiftly brought his hand down to his belt and pulled out a stun gun and pushed it into her side with more force than what was probably necessary.

The man held it there for some time until the other staff member pushed his arm away and yelled, "Platt, that's enough!" He gave the man named Platt a stern look, bordering on disgust. "Just take her to the unit, I'll deal with everything else," He instructed monotonously.

"Fine," Platt conceded after a few moments. He picked up Leah - who was quietly sobbing - off the ground, taking no care as he did so. He walked away through one of the many hallways, careful to keep hold of her.

Well, there goes my only friend after all.

The other man stood where he was and looked at his watch. "Okay, everybody. Line up in an orderly fashion and head to the cafeteria for lunch." Slightly relieved, I did as instructed and stood behind some people already anxiously waiting in line. When the man - apparently named Newman, which I found out by eavesdropping on someone's conversation - deemed it acceptable, he led us through some hallways into a large white room, where many people were already lining up for their food. As it came around to my turn, I was given two options: turkey sandwich or a cheese roll. I easily picked the former, as I wasn't the biggest fan of cheese. I sat down at a table and ate my sandwich eagerly, filling the void that was my stomach.

* * *

The rest of my day was boring. I had a conversation with an elderly lady named Elizabeth, though I barely listened, only nodded and agreed at the right moments; I somewhat enjoyed a dinner that consisted of lasagne; had a shower and ended with a restless sleep.

As I laid staring at the roof in my bed, flashes of my brother's and grandmother's faces repeated in my head. The more I thought about their deaths, the more guilt ate away at me. The feeling that I could have done something to save Brad and Gran left me awake in the early hours of the morning, according to the clock on the wall.

The sun was shining through the small window in the room by the time my spirits had lifted. I managed to get a couple hours of sleep, even if I felt depressed from the moment my eyes laid rest to the point when they fluttered open.

I sat up and observed the wall clock. Seven o'clock. The door swung open and through it appeared a nurse who appeared to be in her thirties or forties. "Come on, get out of your room," She directed, albeit with a rather unkind tone. "Don't think I won't force you out." I quickly hopped out of bed and walked a few steps out of the room to meet the woman with pulled back curly red hair. "Follow me to the showers." We walked down a few dark hallways once we reached the ground floor, passing a few people along the way.

When we finally reached the showers, the nurse told me to strip my clothes. "Uh, in front of you? Would you... would you mind facing away or something? Please?" The nurse gave a disapproving look but reluctantly turned her back to me. "Thank you."

I managed to slip a few items of clothing off before she asked, "Undressed? Good." I didn't even get a chance to respond when she faced me again, a slight scowl present on her face. "I'll run the water just for today, so I'll need you to finish undressing and get in. You have a max of ten minutes." She gave me some supplies I hadn't noticed she was holding before. "Here is the soap and shampoo. You must give it back once you have finished. I will be outside the room and will periodically check on you. Understand?" I nodded my head and took off the remaining clothes on my body. "Okay, time to get in." The nurse walked away from me and exited the room, no doubt regretting choosing this career.

I stood in the stream of water and let the warmth travel down my body. I reached for the soap and lathered the bar in my hands a little before I scrubbed away the build-up of dirt and whatever else I had accumulated since my last shower. After rinsing off the soap I poured a small amount of shampoo into my hand; I brought it to my head and massaged it into my scalp. Once I had finished the shower, the nurse re-entered the room to check on me. Perfect timing.

"Brianna, are you okay? You doing fine?" With these words one would think she sounded kind and caring. Wrong. Her voice still held the same bitterness and unpleasant tone from before.

I turned my head around to look at her, not wanting to expose the rest of my body. "Yeah, I just finished actually. Do you have a towel I could use and some clothes?"

The nurse just nodded her head. She left the room but came back moments later with a fresh towel and clothes. "Since you didn't bring any clothes yourself, we have provided you with some." She left the garments and towel on a bench near where I was still standing. "I'll be outside."

I just simply nodded at her. After the door shut again I gently dried myself off and slipped into the given clothes that consisted of a plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. I picked up the toiletries and towel and met the nurse outside in the hallway.

"Pass those to me," she said in her usual tone, and I complied. "It's time to see the psychologist, follow me." We walked down some dimly lit halls until we reached a room with _PSYCHOLOGIST_ written on the door. "This is where I leave you. Have a nice day," she told me in a surprisingly lighter voice than usual. Must have been because she's free of her duties even if it's just for a little while.

I knocked on the door to hear someone invite me inside on the other side. I slowly turned the knob and pushed to see a woman with light brown skin in her early thirties sitting behind a desk. She looked at me with a warm, inviting smile.

"Good morning, my name is Marin Morrell. Come, take a seat." And so I did. She asked a few questions to get to know me a little better, as well as what I would like to achieve from being here. But that was all for being your average psychologist. She sat forward in her chair with her elbows on the desk and her head rested on her hands. "Brianna, tell me. Why are you really here?"

I hesitated a little. "Uh, I told you already. My mom was worried about me after I witnessed the... murders..." And that's when I got a lump in my throat. It was great timing; when I needed my voice so I could convince this woman that my story was the real deal. But by the look on her face, she wasn't having it. "She said it was post-traumatic stress disorder."

"I must hand it to you, you're a pretty good liar," I almost felt proud. Almost. "You nearly had me believing you. But I know what's really going on, and it wouldn't surprise me if I knew more than you do already."

Now I was confused. "I'm sorry? There's nothing going on. And what do you mean, _know more than me_?"

Morrell just stared at me in the eyes for a good few seconds. "I think I'll leave that up to someone else. For now, know that you are here because of something much bigger, something that you play a major role in."

"You are a very vague person, you know that?" She just gave me a lopsided smile, not happy nor was it a smug smile. Then a thought struck me. "So... what, are you saying that I'm not actually mentally unstable? I'm just here for the sake of it?"

"What I'm saying is whether you were mentally ill or not, you would be sitting at my desk here either way." A few tense seconds passed. "You are dismissed." I sat up from my chair and headed for the door. "Oh and, from a professional point of view, I think you are reacting fine about certain issues. Have a nice day."

I opened the door and took a few steps outside, but paused and realised something: I don't know where to go or what to do. Taking a deep breath, I turned around and walked back inside the office shyly. "Um, I'm not sure what I'm suppose to do now. Do you think you could tell me please?"

Morrell looked up from a sheet of paper that she was now writing on. "Breakfast is in," she glanced down at her watch, "ten minutes. I recommend you stay in the recreation room until a member of staff leads you to the cafeteria." Seeing the uneasy look on my face, she added, "Go straight down the hall to your left, take the last right and there will be a room with _RECREATION ROOM_ on the door." I thanked her and followed her directions and sure enough found the room. I wasn't waiting around in there long before someone lined everyone up and took us to breakfast.

Just like the previous day, I waited in the queue to be served, and had the option for cereal or bacon and eggs. I went for the second option. I sat down at a table and sat in peace once again, until someone sat in the seat opposite me. I looked up to see a man with dark brown hair.

"Brianna, hey, it's me." Stunned into silence, all I could do was nod. "Do you not recognise me? I'm your dad."

Finally finding my voice, all I could say was, "I know."

"Well, aren't going to say something? 'Dad! Wow! It's been so long! It's so good to see you!' You know, something along those lines." He looked at me expectedly, a large smile was spread across his face.

"Uh... wow. This - this is unexpected." I nodded meekly, not wanting to say something that could upset him. "I mean, it's been so long. Eight years in fact." His face was now blank, and I couldn't think of anything to say. "It's good to see you. How are you?"

His face now gained an emotion, one that look natural and friendly. "Yeah, good. I think I'm much better now. How's your mom and Brad?"

I looked down at the ground, not wanting to talk about Brad to someone who was basically a stranger. "Uh, Mom, she's... good I guess. And Brad, he..." I looked up to face my father, his expression not changing. "Brad, uh... last week, he, um... he left us."

"What, did he run away or something?"

"Or something would be about right." The man before me seemed to catch on to my hesitance, his expression only changed a small degree. I turned my gaze to something else across the room, no longer hungry enough to eat breakfast.

"He didn't. No. He wasn't meant to die." I snapped my head toward him, frustration seething through me. His face didn't seem very pain stricken, more angry than anything.

" _Wasn't meant to die_? What's that suppose to mean?!"

"Nothing, it, uh, came out wrong. I just can't believe this." I absent-mindedly chewed on my bacon strips, not wanting the topic to go any further.

A few minutes passed before any of us spoke again. My father looked up from his plate of food, gaining my attention. "Meet me in the back corner of the courtyard at eleven a.m. I have something private to tell you." I silently nodded my head. "Okay, great. See you later honey." He got up and left, leaving me slightly shocked at the term of endearment.

By ten o'clock I was in the recreation room painting on one of the canvases. As I finished the last stroke, I stepped back to admire my work. I looked over the painted sunflower, and ultimately decided suck at art.

"Brianna Straits, you are required to come with me," said a nurse who appeared in the doorway.

"Yeah sure, what do you need me for?" A few possibilities went through my mind, from medication to more therapy.

"You have a mandatory group therapy. Please follow me." Go me for guessing that. I followed her a hallway down to a large white room. In the centre was a small circle of chairs, most of them filled with people. In one of the chairs sat Morrell, her posture elegant unlike the others in the room. Everyone was silent, which made the walk to my seat more awkward than it should have been.

Morrell spoke up and everyone's attention immediately shifted to her. "Okay, now that everyone's here, I would like to start off with introducing everyone to Brianna." She gestured her hand towards me, and as if on cue, everyone said 'Hi Brianna'.

The rest of the session passed in a blur. Everyone else in the room suffered from PTSD with varying degrees of severity. I answered a few questions that were obvious, but decided to sit out when personal questions were asked.

When we were finally dismissed to do as we pleased, I headed for the courtyard. It took a few attempts to get there, but I finally figured my way through the maze of a building. On my way I spotted a clock which showed the time of ten fifty-five, which spared me five minutes until I was to meet my dad again.

As I walked through the doors to the open area, I spotted a familiar man leaning against the wall in the back corner, right where he said he would be. I walked over, making no haste to do so, and approached him with a simple greeting.

"Hey Dad. You said you wanted to meet me?" I couldn't think of anything that he could say that was so private it couldn't be said in the cafeteria.

"Glad you made it. You ready for something, something big?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

"Well, you have to believe then. Do you promise to believe me?" He sounded pretty desperate, I wasn't sure if I wanted to agree with his request. "Do you promise?"

"Yeah, sure. As long as you promise it's not a load of crap."

"Promise. So, do you believe in werewolves?" And there it was.

"Seriously? Werewolves? I went through this yesterday and ended up losing my roommate and my only friend I've made in this place because she went to the closed unit." I didn't want to hear what he had to say. I started to turn around, but Dad grabbed my arm.

"No, Brianna, hear me out." He let go of my arm and I reluctantly turned to face him fully. He took a large breath and exhaled just as deeply. "Okay, so have you ever seen someone with weird facial features? Fangs, overgrown sideburns, glowing eyes?" The image of red eyes flashed before mind's eye.

"What if I say I have? Will you give me a reasonable explanation?"

"Of course. Werewolves, they're murderous, monstrous beasts. They have no self control." He said it so casually, like it was common knowledge.

"Like Leah? She claimed to be one."

He seemed to suppress a laugh. "Leah? Not even close. Ever heard of the medical term 'lycanthropy'? It's the belief you can or have turned into an animal; in her case a wolf. No, what I'm talking about are real, bloodthirsty werewolves. The myth that they can only change on a full moon is false. Just a bigger window of opportunity for them to go on a murderous rampage in my opinion."

"But that's your opinion. What if there are actually good, decent ones out there? Ones that are... ashamed and want to hide it?" I thought that was a valid point, even if it made me sound crazy.

"The world we live in isn't all butterflies and unicorns. There's things like crime and murder everywhere; werewolves are just well hidden behind a wall of theories and lies. Ever thought about the death rates in Beacon Hills? Why, in a town this size, the toll is so high? It's the supernatural part. Now I'm not saying that every supernatural being is bad, but some are worse than others... way worse. How many unexplained murders have there been in the past two or three years? Okay, how many animal attacks? This is because of them, they're taking innocent lives."

The information was sinking into my head. Were werewolves really this bad? All of them? It was clear that a werewolf had mercilessly killed my brother and grandmother. All of this made me feel weak. There were much more powerful beings out there that could kill you with a swipe of the wrist.

I felt something touch my chin, and I realised it was my father lifting it. "You saw one, didn't you?" I slightly nodded, trying to hold back tears. He retracted his hand and quickly rubbed my shoulder. I wasn't usually one to cry in front of others, but when someone finds out that the cause of their distress is something to malicious, one can't help but let out a few tears. "What colour were its eyes?"

"They, um..." My voice was shaking, a lump had formed in my throat. "They were blood red."

He just nodded. "Alpha."

These things had names? "What's an Alpha?"

"The worst of them; the leader; the one with the most strength and power. There are three ranks: Omega, the lone wolf; Beta, the wolf with a pack; and Alpha, the leader." Now I was thoroughly convinced of my father's words. An Alpha had broken into Gran's house and ripped her throat open and did the same to Brad. I no longer felt guilty for not being there in the first place to protect anyone, because I knew there was nothing that I could have done.

"Are they affected by silver like they are in Hollywood?" Now I was genuinely interested about werewolves.

"That's a myth. Want to take one down? You're gonna need wolfsbane or mistletoe." I could see in his eyes the hatred he held for the creatures. It led me to wonder how he had come across werewolves in the first place, but I held my tongue and didn't ask. "Well that's enough for one day. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

I just stood still and stared at the ground. That was a lot of information to process. "Will do," I spoke quietly, but hopefully loud enough that he could hear.

* * *

The rest of the day went rather quickly. And so did, the rest of my stay at Eichen House, for that matter. The days were pretty repetitive: shower, breakfast, therapy, recreational activities, lunch, sit around, more recreational activities, dinner, sleep. A few times a check-up was thrown in but that was pretty much my daily schedule. I didn't see my dad around for the rest of the week, which was surprising. After one tells another such life-changing things, you would think they'd talk more.

The day of my release had finally come. But so had my mother. As everything was being sorted, I left the building for good and walked to the thankfully unlocked car. I decided I didn't want to be seated directly next to my mom, so I opted for the seat behind her, out of sight from her line of vision.

It was another few minutes until she climbed into the driver's seat of the car. She turned around and passed me my shoes, offering a small smile. I looked away to my bare feet, a reminder of how desperate I was to get out of Eichen.

"You forgot your shoes," Mom said once she was facing the front again. I stayed silent. She started the car with a sigh, trying to spark a few more conversations on the way home, all of them ending in my rejection.

* * *

 **A/N: So I FINALLY got this chapter up. This was a long one. Sorry about taking forever to update, things were just getting in the way so I couldn't write :/**

 **Btw I'm writing this at like 3 in the morning so if there are any mistakes I'm sorry.**

 **Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas :) Have a happy and safe New Year, all the best for 2016! (Sorry if I sound cliché)**

 **Leave a review, it'll make my day !**

 **~Tegan**


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